


before all i heard was silence

by shaekspeares



Series: Namgi week 2018 [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Early Days, Future Fic, M/M, Namgi Week 2018, POV Min Yoongi | Suga, Sci-Fi, Star Wars rebels - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaekspeares/pseuds/shaekspeares
Summary: Min Yoongi, rebel alliance leader, lands on the wrong base. It's his first time meeting Kim Namjoon, but it's hardly his first time knowing him. Some stars align more easily than others.





	before all i heard was silence

**Author's Note:**

> 3/7!!! woo  
> this one is an odd lil story, but i like who they are, the easy namgi understanding. im a firm believer in these two finding each other no matter the life, and no matter how the circumstances change them, they're always kindred spirits, you know? calm love. 
> 
> keywords: space fic, futuristic, dystopia/utopia (sort of ignored the last one bc this was a short little insight story)

Min Yoongi. Genius. What else was there to say?

Yoongi scrubbed at his eyes in exhaustion and every nerve in his body screamed in protest. Fucking great. Wired wrong again. He was going to short-circuit his goddamn hands, and then he’d be worthless in every damn sense of the word.

He exhaled, out of necessity, and flexed his hands, eyes still shut. They stung, to the extent where it was starting to feel like they wanted out of his head.

His com crackled again, pathetically, prompting him to remove it and crush it under his heel. It was barely in one piece, after his little escapade, and he strongly doubted it would do much other than render him partially deaf at this point.

Just what he needed, being stranded in peak grid time. Yoongi exhaled through his nose and flexed his fingers in thought.

Fine. Fine, he’d dealt with worse. He just needed to transport himself out in time.

He scanned the area again, bionic eye whirring as it revealed swarms of various life forms and the ever-present Empire ships cruising above.

Nothing to be found.

Yoongi pursed his lips, reconsidering.

Right. There was his way out.

If nothing was around, something had to be. In a tech-heavy city like this, so little trace of cyber activity meant someone was fucking with signals.

He vaulted the fence and slid further away from the heart of town, sticking to the shadows and hoping his faltering power levels weren’t giving him away through sparking or glowing or some shit. Now would have been a terrible time for any of Hoseok’s modifications to begin blaring dubstep through the speakers, for example.

The quieter his radar got, the quicker he walked. He was too beaten up to run much, saving his energy in case he had to really go for it, but that didn’t mean he was going to go slowly. He’d already missed the ETA by a significant margin, meaning he and their contact had no chance of meeting today.

There- an intersection, in an apparent dead end across two buildings. Yoongi hoisted himself onto the roof difficultly, cursing his height and bruises and sparking arm, then crawled over to peer downwards at the alley.

Not a sign of life. Not a sign of anything amiss, either. He frowned.

Ten minutes until the grid activated. He had to find something useful here.

He exhaled, let himself fall down into the alley as he braced for the landing, and was halfway through squinting around when someone shoved a gun against his back.

“I suggest you stay put,” a low voice said, muffled by something or other. Pulse racing, Yoongi flexed his fingers, this time purposefully.

“Or what?”

“I’ll shoot your brains out.”

Yoongi dropped to the ground, and his assailant understood one milisecond too late what was happening, firing in rapid succession as Yoongi twisted away and punched the gun upwards. The attacker was big, probably alien, but Yoongi was small and lethal. They exchanged dodges and blows for ten seconds of blurry violence, one hard blow almost ending the fight in the attacker’s favour as Yoongi clutched his chest, and then Yoongi stuck a bionic finger into his side and shot, the electroshocks making his opponent convulse and drop him.

“Who the fuck are you,” Yoongi asked, panting, holding the gun he’d kicked away. His assailant was silent, masked, and Yoongi had to give it to them- they’d not even made a word during the shock.

“Min Yoongi,” his attacker said, in a curious voice. Before Yoongi could demand answers, he tagged his mask off, revealing a young man of Yoongi’s background with an ugly scar, dimples, and intelligent brown eyes.

Oh, he knew that face.

“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi said, despite himself. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“We need to get inside,” Namjoon urged, struggling upright and gesturing at the inconspicuous warehouse. “The grid is about to drop. I was doing final checks.”

Yoongi shrugged a yes. If it was a trap, at least he had a gun, which he wouldn’t have once the grid fell.

Namjoon turned, flicked a screen into existence, swiped a rapid succession of codes over each other, then pressed his hand to the wall, which slid open in a complex sequence, revealing a doorway.

“Follow me closely,” Namjoon motioned, and pressed his hand to the door again, Yoongi slipping in behind him.

They entered a big warehouse not unlike the last base Yoongi had stayed in, various rebels scurrying about in the front hall and sparing a cursory glance towards them as security bots patrolled the ceiling. Namjoon unzipped his coat, shedding equipment, and turned towards Yoongi.

“Sorry about that. Our sensors detected... bionic activity.”

Yoongi smirked wryly. Not what they’d expected from him. He got that a lot.

“Don’t worry. I’d rather be inside now that the grid is up. And most people in the Rebellion never meet me face to face anyways.”

Namjoon nodded and extended a hand.

“In any case, I’m honored to finally meet you, Agust. It’s been a pleasure working with you all this time.”

He’d offered the hand across from Yoongi’s cybernetic arm. Yoongi eyed him with newfound appreciation, and took it.

“Mh. You too, RM. Good work on that last call, too.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon said, smiling a little. He was bizarrely humane, almost too much, Yoongi thought. He’d imagined something rougher, uglier. Not because Namjoon had struck him as either, but because so few things looked like him nowadays.

“You were on your way to something, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. My infiltration job ended messily. Missed my rendez vous.”

Namjoon clicked his tongue. “We can connect you to the rebellion systems, if you need to contact anyone.”

“Thank you. I won’t be imposing long.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“GRID GOING UP,” someone called from a nearby platform, the base quieting to hear the faint electric buzz as the outside systems activated. “GRID ONLINE.”

“Sir,” a harangued looking Semenian asked, arriving by his side. “Reports of a base taken down in the Beyond. Do I have authorisation to open comms?”

“Of course,” Namjoon said. “You’ve run the scans, right? Then go ahead. But keep the counter-scanner up, if we can afford the pressure. Have a transporter opened, in case.”

“Yes sir,” the Semenian nodded, running a hand over her face. She stilled when she saw Yoongi, eyes going cold and sharp. “Sir.”

Namjoon followed her gaze. “Revel, this is Min Yoongi. You know who he is.”

Revel’s expression flickered, but her posture stayed stiff. “Do we know that for sure?”

“Revel…”

“Have you confirmed his identity, sir?” Revel asked, more sharply. “We’re not making exceptions, I assume?”

“We’ll confirm,” Yoongi interrupted, before they started some kind of command drama. “Scan away. Want to put me in your panel, while I’m here? Maybe stick some slates in?”

She had the decency to look sort of bitter, but Yoongi rolled his eyes. Right. Who was he to expect he could go one damn day without tubes plugged into him.

  
The scans were fast and painless, Namjoon obviously unhappy to put him through them, Yoongi apparently zoned out but actually using the opportunity to examine the base for all its worth. When they started tinkering on his cybernetics, he made a show of discomfort, actually appreciative of his luck in having people fix the faulty mechanics. His arm in particular tended to look a lot worse than it was, part of the charm of Hoseok’s little additions, so as they tried to establish whether it was about to explode, he prodded at the system within his reach, EMPs pulsing into the reader in his right eye. He didn’t get far before people started squinting at him suspiciously, but it confirmed his feelings that the base was legit, not some elaborate set-up. The tech and systems were instantly recognisable.

Since this was the real Kim Namjoon, then, Yoongi was actually feeling sort of- well, something unfamiliar, in any case. Or no, unusual. Like he was… Not comfortable, but something less than his usual state of constant high-pressure vigilance, a little like he was with Hoseok. Gods, he missed Hoseok.

It was a logical by-effect. He and Kim Namjoon, also known as RM, had been coordinating missions for years. He’d first come into contact with the guy when he was going by Randa, and then when he’d been deemed God of Destruction. Their first interaction had been a dispute, actually, Yoongi’s ground force versus his airforce, but since then they’d clicked. Most of Yoongi’s biggest jobs had been pulled off with Kim Namjoon somewhere on the team.

Considering all this, it was odd they’d never met like this. Yoongi had spoken to him or his hologram plenty, even seen him across bases in full protective gear, but they simply ran very different planetary systems. They usually spoke when someone needed resources, or during intergalactic missions, or on intelligence runs, none of which lent to face-to-face chatting.

The techs and drafters unhooked his last limb, and he sat up, pulling a face. All his bionics were in better shape, sparking halted and overpressure avoided, which was good, because he’d had a real risk of explosion there. He flexed his arm, watched the blue run up his wiring like blood through veins. Yeah, he was fine. Touch-ups made his human body sore, but it was better than overheating or going rogue because of some virus.

Ugh, viruses. Not a good experience.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon said, sighing as Yoongi pulled his last boot back up. He’d been watching from upstairs for most of the debacle. “Protocol.”

“No hard feelings,” Yoongi shrugged, rolling his bionic eye backwards into his head just to make one of the mechanics jump. “People don’t like droids, much. Can’t imagine why.”

Namjoon considered him like he was thinking of asking. Yoongi thought if he did he might give him half an honest answer.

“Are you hungry? I was headed to a meeting, so you’re free to come along, if you’d like. Otherwise we have bunks free- you can take mine if you need a real rest.”

“I’m fine,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “Meeting?”

Namjoon nodded, began to walk as Yoongi trailed along. “Yeah. Did you hear about X-0?”

“They were evacuating the rebels through the Mahmaw Field last I heard.”

“Well, the evac didn’t go so well. The Empire sent a death-cruiser after them and obliterated them.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Now we need to figure out what’s happening to the second loading of rebels that were meant to follow.”

They entered a room similar to so many other meeting rooms Yoongi had sat in, pulling chairs as the screen flickered to life. The room was packed, but he ignored the looks he was getting, of recognition and suspicion, as his fake eye clicked into recording mode.

“RM,” a very handsome human said, on screen. His hair was silver, his clothes shimmering blue- the sight made Yoongi think back to lifetimes ago, when Republics still stood. “I’m glad to see you in good health.”

“Likewise, Majesty,” Namjoon said, but it was less reverent than kind, like they were old acquaintances.

“Ah, don’t,” the prince said, waving an embarrassed hand. The expression made Yoongi frown, searching his almond eyes and fine features for someone he might have known. “Let’s not be formal.”

Kim Taehyung, his mind supplied. Yoongi’s cybernetic eye whizzed a little too loud, clicking pictures of Daegu as it had once been, the planet of many moons, the royal family, a little boy that had tailed Yoongi with a wide boxy smile.

Funny how life worked out.

“So, X-0.”

“My sources have been tailing the planet for days, but the situation is grim. The state is rounding up all the ships they can get their hands on, and within days we’ll have no more access points. We need to act soon if we want to get them out.”

“What does the Council say?”

Taehyung winced. “They’re OK with a rescue, but they’ve got nothing to give us. The fighting in Ama is more of a costly operation.”

“So it’s on us,” Namjoon nodded, lost in thought. “How many are we talking?”

“A good couple of hundred, just below a thousand,” Taehyung sighed. “It was a big base.”

“And a lot of liabilities,” someone said from the back of the room.

“A lot of our ships,” another agreed. Yoongi eyed them consideringly, silent.

“What do you have in mind?” Namjoon asked, patiently. He was looking at the screen, but his hands were taking rapid-fire notes, sketching and scrawling.

“Given the big numbers and our limited resources, as well as the protective ring and the potential death-cruiser, our best bet seems to be to send in a big ship and focus on defence,” Taehyung said, toying with his rings. “I can supply, if you close ranks. We go for the opening between rings, where the barriers are at their lowest, because they won’t be expecting a cruiser, and use the cannons to tunnel in. The small ships bridge the gap.”

A considering murmur went through the room. Namjoon looked at Yoongi.

“With all due respect,” Yoongi said, shaking his head, “That’s bullshit.”

The room stilled. He avoided their eyes, examining his hands as he spoke.

“Listen. Sending in a big ship might surprise them, but it offers them an obvious and huge target. You’ll be spending too much on your shields to be able to maintain effective ground coverage. Which means the small ships will be decimated the moment they fly beyond the shields. There’s no way it works out in our favour.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Namjoon asked, eyebrow raised expectantly. Yoongi exhaled.

“We send delivery cruisers the next couple of day, drop equipment onto bases, enough for them to assemble their own transporters. They have good hackers; we open a connection line. We send small ships, in big numbers, through the rings like you said, but we don’t stabilise the rings, it gives us more coverage. Yes, that means we risk the collapse, but we’ve got good pilots and better odds that way. The ships fly within range of the connection line, they transport small numbers up, we fuck off. Rinse repeat. It’ll take a while for them to catch on if we use scramblers instead of devoting our resources to shielding.”

“Flying through unstable rings is a death trap.”

“No, it’s not. I can lead the squadron, if I must,” Yoongi said, flat. “It’s dangerous, sure, but what isn’t.”

“You think they’ll be able to build strong enough transporters within days? Are you insane?”

“I’m sorry, was the cannon bridge more realistic?”

“My main issue,” Namjoon said, speaking up at last, “Is the connection line.”

Yoongi nodded. He agreed. It was the weak point of the plan. “Yeah. I know. We need very precise coordinates and timing to make sure we’re in and out at the right points, or we land on their tracers instead.”

“We need high tech for the coordinates,” Namjoon pointed out. “Very. And the timing is going to be extremely difficult.”

“We have the tech,” Taehyung supplied, for the first time since Yoongi had contradicted him. He didn’t look upset at all, more thoughtful, and his eyes were searching Yoongi’s face intently. “So it’s really just the timing.”

“That’s too much on the timing,” a lean Mexer said, shaking his head. “That precise timing through the rings, that precise timing to the line. Plans never work on that exact a scale. And here, failing to be exact means a lost ship and all of its crew.”

“Unless we fly the 21s.”

Yoongi gave Namjoon a scrutinising glance as the rest of the room protested.

“The 21s are junk. They’re almost impossible to fly!”

“Which means if they land on the line they won’t be picked up on.”

“But it also means getting them through the rings in time is statistically absurd!”

“Never tell me the odds,” Yoongi said, calmly. “If you let me put in some calls, I can get some folks together. We can fly any ship, if we have day or so to get the feel of it.”

“Let me guess,” a pale human said, acidly. “That kind of precision requires more of your lot.”

Yoongi shrugged, curling his hands into his pockets. “Yes. Do you have an issue with that?”

“I have an issue with a bunch of fucking droids flying our ships into X-0, yeah! Are you hearing yourself speak?”

“Hey,” Namjoon interrupted, mildly. “Shut up.”

The room shut up. Yoongi looked at the ceiling disinterestedly.

“I think,” Taehyung said, on screen, “That could probably work.”

Yoongi glanced at him, and found the hint of a smile in his expression. He looked away.

“Listen,” Namjoon said, to the room. “The plan makes sense. Now, we send equipment, easy delivery missions. We trust the survivors to do what they’re best at. We establish comms. We warp into range, through the weak spot in the rings. If Agust and his squadron man the 21s, we need to assume they can make the jump. I’ve seen them in action enough to trust they can do it. Then base scrambles the line, and the 21s float through radars undetected. The survivors open lines, we get one ship in and out of there. Ideally, we clear the whole lot with no losses and limited fund depletion.”

He glanced at his notes, nodded to himself. “We trust Daegu to have the tech for the transporters and the coordinates. We trust Agust and his base to have the flying skills to pull it off. And we trust this base enough to pull it all of. All right?”

A slow wave of assent followed. Yoongi exhaled. Time to get to work.

  
He called Hoseok once he got to dorms, fending off questions as he summed up the day, the new mission, what he needed. It was like that, in the rebellion- no time to mull over one mission, the next already falling into place.

His base was quick to respond to calls, moreso when he reluctantly name-dropped Namjoon into the drill. None of them batted an eye at the plan, to Yoongi’s satisfaction, considering how much shit he’d gotten for it. Whatever- it was how he worked, and he’d learnt to make an art out of it.

The next few days felt bizarrely normal, disregarding the where and who of it. Apart from minor tensions in command between him and the other human, things ran sort of like he was used to, only their methods differed in the nuances.

It went fast, really. Waking up covered in sweat, disorientated, unplugging his wires. Finding his bearings. Getting up to go do judo. Eating a bowl of rice over logistic spreadsheets. Hours and hours of endless tech issues, Namjoon appearing in his line of vision. Afternoons of planning and debating with Namjoon over this or that point until they got the right answer. Evenings out racing the streets, recruiting and observing.

They flew to Gatal’IX on the fourth day since Yoongi’s arrival, getting to a midway towards X-0. He flew, Namjoon hovering to observe him at work, and the intrusion was odd but not unwelcome. Namjoon didn’t cling and blab like Hoseok did, rather hung back and made some quiet comments once in a while. At some stage when they went through a silent patch he began to ramble, and it was docile enough that Yoongi sort of relaxed.

From Gatal things sped up, convoys and frantic looking members of their crews arriving and departing like a frenzied insect colony. Yoongi found an actual techno to recharge his limbs and encrypt his data, which was- a lot better.

It was the last night before the offensive. He called Hoseok again, checking up, waved away the black humour thrown his way. They had their ways of coping. Their unspoken promises to come back alive.

He found the emptiest corner of the base that he could, plugged himself into the nearest socket, and stared up through the glass panelling into the night skies. The stars were orange here, bright and glowing, like forges.

“Mind if I sit?”

Namjoon. Yoongi glanced up, found his face serious, not upset but thoughtful. He shrugged.

“Thanks,” Namjoon said. Drew his long legs to his chest.

They sat in silence for a while, in the dark room, only illuminated by the glow of Yoongi’s limbs.

“Do you need to charge them that often?”

He pulled a face.

“No. I’m just lazy. Prefer to have a surplus of energy.”

“Ah,” Namjoon said, almost a little laugh. “Right. I thought…”

“It was some kind of tragic dependency? Nah. I could go days, weeks, without charging up. My technician’s pretty good.”

“I know him,” Namjoon smiled. Dimpled. Yoongi’d never seen those across the screens. He wondered if Namjoon, too, felt what Yoongi had registered since seeing his mask drop.

“Funny it took us this long to meet face to face.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said. Not really committing one way or the other. He risked a sideways glance. “I’m pretty territorial.”

“Still,” Namjoon conceded, running a hand through his hair, tired. Sort of vulnerable, but not asking for pity or even consideration. Just putting it out there, unashamed. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Or- all of this life, at least.”

“You’re not wrong,” Yoongi agreed, thoughtful. He could remember times where Namjoon’s voice had been mock-gruff and his eyes livelier. He didn’t want to remember himself back then. “Only a matter of time before we crossed paths, then.”

“Honestly,” Namjoon said, and grinned swiftly, the action taking years off his face, turning him from war commander to twenty something human sitting next to Yoongi with dimples and self-depreciating mischief in his eyes. “I’m glad it was sooner.”

Yoongi made a little noise of agreement, half-embarrassed by being caught off guard like that. He was unused to emoting like this, except with Hoseok, maybe Jungkook when it was life or death. Then again- then again, the only other person he ever spoke to seriously about more than just missions was Namjoon, wasn’t it, late night logs back and forth across galaxies.

“I don’t doubt it won’t last,” he said, finally. “Unless we make some kind of drastic base change.”

“Or we win the war,” Namjoon said. Yoongi turned to him with blank disbelief, and he had the decency to smile. “Hey, I can dream bigger than base change, can’t I?”

Yoongi smiled back, despite himself. “Can’t stop you there, no.”

“I’ve never asked,” Namjoon said, eyes drifting to his arm. His hand followed the movement, stopped shy of touching. “Don’t feel compelled to answer. But your bionics- they’re one of a kind, aren’t they? It’s never been done, fusing a mostly complete human body with functional bot machinery.”

Yoongi set his jaw, but didn’t lash out like he would-should- have. It was only Namjoon. He knew Namjoon.

“Mh. Desperate times, desperate measures. The limbs aren’t too weird to pull off- sort of like artificial ones, except more complex. It’s the…” He gestured to his eyes, meant the rest behind them. “That’s more of…”

“A rarity?”

He’d been about to say problem, but he shrugged. “Yeah. Having the equivalent of a little camera and tech system in my eye socket took some adjusting to. Especially the whole neural link thing.”

Namjoon was examining him intently, but not like a zoo animal, or something vile, just something intriguing, a tricky puzzle. Yoongi almost smiled again, at the familiar expression. Namjoon was like that, a lot- always wanting to know how things worked.

“It doesn’t make me special,” Yoongi said, felt urged to say. He never really spoke about this kind of thing. “Like- I have nothing to do with this, really. Someone else saved my life. Someone else managed to make this mess work. Someone else keeps it going. I’m just the guy who’s half machine.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said. Looked up at the stars. “I feel you.”

Yoongi had his own questions for him, about the Force and ghost stories and things that he never thought but felt were true. He didn’t ask them. It didn’t matter. They knew each other both too well and not well enough for that sort of inquiry.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you fly,” Namjoon finally said, and exchanged a smirk with him. “From my side of the team, for once.”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi groused, although it was entirely without heat. “That was literally the very first time we were on the same planet. I was just doing my job.”

“You did, in fairness, almost kill my entire squadron.”

“Well, I didn’t, did I? And we pulled the mission off.”

“I question your leadership methods.”

“I question your coordination.”

“Wow, cheap shot.”

They both laughed. Yoongi looked up at the orange stars for a moment, shook his head.

What the hell. He’d never been particularly shy about these things, not in this life, not when death was around the corner at every breath. And if something, some ulterior force, some whisper of Something More was weaving tendrils between them as they sat, well, that would take more time to think about, wouldn’t it?

“Namjoon.”

Namjoon tilted his head inquisitively, eyes dark and pensive against the faint blue glow of Yoongi’s arm. “Yeah?”

Yoongi rolled his shoulders, to shake off the stiffness from sitting still so long, reached to unplug himself, which sent them both into darkness, only the faraway shine of the stars sparing them from a pitch-black room. Namjoon’s eyes stayed on him, questioning, unhurried, and Yoongi leisurely lifted himself to rest on his knees in front of him, so they were almost eye-level where he sat.

It was funny. Usually this kind of thing was rushed, urgent somehow. For all that they had a time limit, Yoongi felt almost inclined to take his time.

“It’s funny,” Namjoon said, light even though his tone was a little more heavy, asking something else. “Both of your eyes shine in the dark.”

“Funny,” Yoongi echoed, and skipped the rest of his answer by cupping his face and leaning in to kiss him. Namjoon went with it, pliable, his big lanky hands resting on Yoongi’s hips. It was almost sweet, considering them, rough and battered war heroes kissing under the stars- but Yoongi didn’t remember what sweet was, not really.

They parted; Yoongi eyed Namjoon, not very self-conscious. Namjoon searched his expression, and his eyes crinkled with an unknown emotion when he seemed to find some answers. Yoongi let him look until his patience ran out.

“Do you ever sort of feel,” Namjoon asked, looking out into space even as he pulled Yoongi in, closer, almost like they were hugging. “Like everything is written out, somewhere in the stars?”

Yoongi waited for his heart to thump once, out of sync, and told himself with questionable resignation that he’d seen this feeling coming- five days ago, five months ago, five years ago.

“I feel like that would be sort of fucking stupid.”

“A lot of things are.”

“Then maybe. What do I know?”

“More than you like to tell,” Namjoon observed, but he leant in to kiss him again before Yoongi could start questioning that. It was a good kiss- heavier than the first, but still with that odd slowness, like this was an established thing. Shit, maybe he was right, about the stars, it being written- Yoongi really wouldn’t have put it past the universe, to know this sort of things.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, time would flow like it usually did, too fast and too tilted, the sound of explosions and his own pulse hammering in his ears, the smell of smoke and fear, and his eyes trying to look for his men and his ammo and his target and his ship all in one breath. Tomorrow maybe time would stop its gunfire march forwards. Tomorrow maybe it would last. Maybe long enough, across enough tomorrows, for the stars to change their story.

Today, though, Yoongi held Kim Namjoon to him under the faint glow of burning systems and let something like humanity drive both of his systems. 

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know why i call these short theyre 4k but they feel v short to me is the thing? anyways, please do leave comments, it stops me from stabbing my eyes out oedipus style in frustration over my penchant for rare-pairs


End file.
